


If 6 Was 9

by owlettica



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Memories, Pining, Post-Betrayal, Regret, daylight savings time, green tea porn, shameless references to Nina Simone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 01:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13671357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlettica/pseuds/owlettica
Summary: Penguin turns to a former business associate for help with rebuilding his empire (post 3x22).This fic takes place between eps 3x22 and 4x01.Y’all know the drill. I’m not associated with Gotham or Fox. I’m just a fan. Please don’t sue me. I have no money.





	If 6 Was 9

Gilzean and Kean are both dead and Tabitha Galavan is in the wind. Penguin’s last remaining and biggest threat (or “most crippling weakness”) is now frozen in a block of ice, thus neutralizing any real vulnerability for him.

_“Listen to me. You make this city yours, or you burn it to the ground.”_

Fish’s dying words spur him onward. She may have died the final death, but Oswald will never forgot all that she taught him. The woman who mercilessly tormented and hobbled him is ultimately the person who forged and hammered him into the terror of Gotham.

Before Fish, Oswald’s mother, Gertrud, was his first and primary influence. He vowed to become the great man she told everyone he was destined to be, undeterred by the fact his empire lie in ruins thanks to Edward.

_"I didn’t just want to take what you had. I wanted to take what you believed. I wanted you to die knowing that you were incapable of loving another person.”_

Fortunately, Penguin has the support of Ivy Pepper, Bridgit Pike and Victor Fries, who all prove instrumental in helping him gain the traction he has thus far. Thanks to Fries, Edward is now encased in an icy prison.

Oswald usually visits Edward with a crystal tumbler of top shelf in his hand. When he does, he’s reminded of those unfortunate insects captured in amber. Often, he thinks back on their last exchange.

_"You said you called them after you knocked me out. You knew that I’d bring you here.”_

_“I know you, Ed. I may be driven by my emotions, but you are driven by something much more predictable: a desperate compulsive need to complete what you’ve started in exacting fashion.”_

_“Why didn’t you just kill me, Oswald?”_

_“You were the one time I let love weaken me, and I want you around as a constant reminder to never make that mistake again.”_

Sometimes, Oswald jeers.

“Not so brilliant after all, hmm?! I’m sorry, Ed. What was that? Call you ‘Riddler’? Never. Gonna. Happen. ED!”

Other times, he ruminates over their first fateful walk to the pier: the grand finale in Edward’s plot to destroy him.

_"Ed. I love you. I know you believe that now. So you need to listen to me when I tell you by doing this, it will change you.”_

_“I’ve killed before, Oswald.”_

_“Not like this. This won’t be a crime of passion, or self-preservation. This will be the cold-blooded murder of someone you love.”_

_“I don’t love you.”_

Oswald closes his eyes when he recalls the painful words and how Edward slapped down his hands as he reached to touch him.

_"You need me, Edward Nygma. Just as I need you. You cannot have one without the other.”_

_“You killed Isabella."_

_"The point is —.”_

_"That IS the point! You can’t talk your way out of this, Oswald. I’ve wanted you to suffer as I’ve suffered. You killed her, so you die.”_

_“When I met you, you were a nervous, jittery loser! You were nothing! I created Edward Nygma and I am the only one in the world who sees you as you are. Who you can still become. You can’t do this. Ed, are you listening to me?”_

_“I’m listening.”_

_“Say something.”_

_“I loved her, Oswald. And you killed her.”_

Oswald still flinches when he recalls the sound and the force of the gun blast. He shudders at the memory of the waters’ icy grip and can still see his blood billow above him as he sinks. He was unable to swim like he did the time Gordon pushed him off the dock. The best he could manage was to helplessly reach upward as the current pulled him under and his life ebbed away.

This evening, Oswald visits Edward for a different purpose. He’s still hammering out the next steps in his strategy to rebuild his empire. When he suddenly realizes how much he still turns to Ed despite everything, he shakes his head and swirls the liquor in his tumbler. He takes a swig at the thought when a familiar voice interrupts.

“Barring any malfunction of our refrigeration system, ya don’t have to keep checking on him.”

Oswald emits a small puff before turning to address the cryogenist.

“One can never be too certain.”

“Ya need anything else from me?”

“No, Victor. Thank you.”

After dismissing Fries for the evening, Penguin surreptitiously admires the iceman’s swagger as he takes his leave.

Fries is a man of many talents. He's intelligent, surprisingly strong and one hell of a marksman with his freeze gun. Penguin can also count on him to keep his head down and his mouth shut given he isn’t much of a talker. Last, but not least, there's the undeniable truth that the man is very, _very_ easy on the eyes.

In spite of the fact Penguin’s band of freaks is a small one, they've proven themselves a formidable crew.

In terms of size and medium, Bridgit Pike couldn’t be further opposite the spectrum from Victor. However, Firefly’s terrifying mastery of fire makes her a capable bodyguard and a force to be reckoned with. Like Victor, she isn’t one for chit chat. She follows orders without question. If she's inclined to ask anything, it's only to clarify Penguin’s preference on how he wants her to carry out an assignment.

Lastly, there is Ivy. Sure, Penguin finds Ivy’s immaturity, naïveté and sunny disposition taxing, but he’s grudgingly come to respect her knowledge of all things botanical and her mastery at harnessing their power. She can extract truths and influence people to carry out her wishes. Ivy's also a gifted healer. Not only did she nurse Oswald back to health, but she revealed the ugly truth about Gabe, helped him acquire Freeze and Firefly, and assisted him in realizing his vision for his future club.

Oswald's learned much since his first foray into the club scene. While it excites him to return, it's the least of his ambitions. He plans to use it for his headquarters as he muscles his way into Gotham’s organized crime.

While the Falcone name is still an institution, the fact remains that Don Falcone has left the city and his influence is waning in Gotham. Penguin has big plans to fill the void, but knows he lacks the numbers to realize and sustain his greater vision. That requires far larger numbers, intimate knowledge of the city’s players and allegiances, as well as certain persuasive techniques beyond the skills of Freeze, Firefly and Ivy.

-><- 

As fate would have it, Oswald happens upon a heavyweight matte black envelope while thumbing through the following morning’s post. It’s embossed with a glossy red “Z” in the return address area. Inside is a lone black matte business card with with a number. Penguin shouts loud enough to be heard in the parlor.

“Ivy. Did a courier deliver this black envelope?”

She peeks around the corner, “No, it was in there with the rest of the mail.”

Oswald chuckles with amusement.

“Far be it from Zsasz to miss out on a potential business opportunity.”

Oswald fingers the card, running his thumb over the number before picking up his phone to dial it. The second ring barely begins when a woman’s voice greets Mr. Cobblepot, provides him an address and informs him to arrive at 9:00 PM before promptly hanging up.

-><- 

As much as Penguin prefers the silent company of Fries, he keeps him at the mansion. He brings along Ivy and Bridgit, who are more than capable of handling themselves —not that they're likely to encounter any trouble given who they're visiting.

The trio arrives at what appears to have once been a small manufacturing building. Oswald hobbles up to the main entrance with his cane and the two young women in tow. The moment they arrive at the large steel industrial door, they’re buzzed in. Penguin peers up at the security camera as he walks past the threshold.

They walk down a corridor and arrive at a small reception area. A tall, stunning woman is waiting for them. She’s clad in the black leather that her boss’ henchwomen are famous for. Her high-heeled wedge boots easily place her over six feet.

She has rich umber skin, a long neck and short cropped black hair with shaved sides. Her purple eyeliner and bright orange matte lipstick are exquisitely applied. She wears a knee-length, high-collared sleeveless dress that laces up the front, mirroring her tongueless boots. She curtly but professionally addresses them with a deep, throaty alto.

“Zsasz will be with you shortly, Mr. Cobblepot. Please help yourself to some gyokuro.”

She motions to a nearby seating area with contemporary black leather chairs. At its center is a sleek, glass-top coffee table. On it, sits a black-lacquered tea tray with a Japanese cast iron teapot featuring an elaborate dragon and phoenix on a trivet, four porcelain enamel cups and a small dish of rock sugar.

Oswald’s cane clicks on the floor as he makes his way to the area. He seats himself and leans over to pour himself a cup. Bridgit and Ivy turn to one another briefly before following suit.

->z<-

Zsasz looms over a bloodied and blubbering man bound to a chair with restraints. Victor’s chin is spattered with blood, but his sleeves are soaked in it. The wide-eyed captive peers up at the unblinking assassin, who holds pruning shears in one hand and one of his fingers in the other.

“Oh god. Please don’t. I swear it was just a misunder—“

Victor’s face splits into a wide, shark-like grin in response to the man’s plea.

Just then, a tall, gorgeous, fair-skinned black woman casually saunters in. Zsasz wordlessly acknowledges her entrance. She leans against the wall and silently waits for Victor to finish whatever he’s doing and the inevitable screams that are certain to follow. He addresses her with mild annoyance.

“Saffronia, I’m in the middle of something.”

Unfazed, she casually studies her nails.

“Your 9:00 is here.”

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head incredulously before slowly turning his head to check the clock on the wall. It reads 8:00.

“He’s not supposed to be here for another hour.”

“Daylight savings time, Victor.”

The bound man listens on helplessly, but is relieved by the interruption. When Zsasz returns his eyes to the woman and stares blankly, she continues.

“ _‘Spring forward’?_ Egypt and I reminded you all last week. We offered to change the clock down here, but you said you’d do it.”

He crinkles his mouth and brow for a few brief moments before taking a deep breath and craning his head back. He sighs loudly and nods when he finally recalls the conversation.

“Right. Dammit. Gimme a sec.”

Zsasz returns his gaze to the bound man. He firmly wags the man’s finger before addressing him in an apologetic tone.

“Sorry. I have to meet with another client, but I promise I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

The man’s shoulders slump in relief at the promise of Victor’s exit.

It’s at that moment Zsasz suddenly snips off the digit, eliciting a scream. Victor leans in and wiggles the bloody finger playfully at the man’s face and chirps.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

He then looks pointedly down at his hostage’s bound legs and bare feet with several miserably crushed toes.

“Oh wait. You can’t, can you?”

Zsasz shoots his wailing captive a cheeky smile and wink before flicking the man’s severed digit against his chest. It falls into his lap, eliciting more screams.

Zsasz tosses his bloody tool on his workbench before breezily strolling out and jogging up the stairs. He strides up the corridor toward the seating area with Saffronia in tow. On the way, he frowns at his blood-soiled shirt, but he’s not concerned. He and his 9:00 go way back.

-><-

Bridgit, Ivy and Penguin have barely begun drinking their tea when they suddenly hear screams reverberate throughout a nearby corridor. They are quickly silenced by the thud of a heavy door. The woman who greeted them looks unfazed as she stands akimbo at the periphery of the seating area. Oswald barely notices as he blissfully sips his tea. Ivy, on the other hand, shoots Bridgit a concerned look.

All three watch as Zsasz strides towards the seating area. He’s accompanied by a tawny stunner who stands a few inches taller than he does. Her short dark blonde hair is cut identically to the black-haired woman’s. He leans over and whispers something to her before she leaves him.

Victor enters the seating area with a big toothy grin and a blood-spattered shirt. The cuffs of his sleeves and hands are also bloody. He spreads his arms wide and warmly apologizes.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I was working out a contract dispute.”  

Ivy and Bridgit exchange glances as he makes his way to the chair across from them. Oswald answers.

“Not to worry, Victor. We all know that contract disputes can sometimes be…  ‘ _messy’_.”

After plopping himself down, Victor leans forward and rests an elbow on a knee.

“Exactly. Call me optimistic, but I think we’re gonna work it out.”

Zsasz punctuates his remark with a wink.

The tall blonde returns with a bowl. Victor unbuttons and flips up his cuffs before leaning back to pull a damp cloth from it. He begins wiping down his hands and wrists. As he does, Bridgit and Ivy can’t help but notice the numerous scars just beyond his cuffs. Meanwhile, Penguin gets a better look at the blonde.

He confirms her height, haircut and attire are identical to the darker woman’s, as well as her makeup (despite a difference in color): her eyeliner is blue and matte lipstick is a bright fuschia. A closer look reveals they have uncannily similar facial features and eye color. Zsasz’s voice pulls Oswald from his thoughts.

“Been a while. You look good for a dead man. Well, word on the street is you're dead anyway.”

A woman’s voice comes from above.

“Hierba mala nunca muere.”

Bridgit stifles a chortle. Zsasz retracts his facial muscles and hardens his jaw. He replies with an edge to his tone.

“ _Don’t_ be that way.”

A wiry, androgynous Latina walks down a nearby metal staircase. Unlike Zsasz’s amazons, she’s of average height. She’s donning leather pants, a long-sleeve fishnet top and a leather corset. She wears combat boots similar to Victor’s and large black plugs in her ears with blue skulls at their center. Her blue-tipped black hair is styled in a mohawk and her shaved sides are elaborately tattooed. Once Bridgit gets a closer look, she surmises they’re Mayan or Incan heiroglyphics.

The mohawked woman appears to have a black shirt in her hand. She hands it to the darker woman before rolling her eyes and exiting. Zsasz returns his attention to Oswald. He casually shrugs as he finishes up his hands and turns his attention to a nail.

“Apologies. They’re better at marksmanship.”

Penguin waves it off and takes another sip of tea before continuing.

“That’s why people pay you, Victor. After all, you’re not running a finishing school, are you? On that note, the timing of your card was most fortuitous. I’m here to discuss the future, not the past.”

Victor returns the cloth to the bowl and the blonde sets it on a nearby counter. Zsasz listens to Oswald, but screws up his mouth when he discovers his bloodied sleeves are rubbing more blood against his freshly-cleaned wrists. After a brief moment, he shrugs it off.

When he looks up from his cuffs, he notices the young, fresh-faced redhead to Penguin’s side looking at him and deliberately pointing to her chin. Victor raises his eyebrows and nods in acknowledgement. He smiles and silently mouths “thank you” as he wipes the spatter from his chin with the back of his hand. He returns his eyes to Oswald, who’s begun explaining his plans.

"I’m working on a couple of projects that would benefit greatly from your experience, expertise and workforce, Victor. The first (and smaller of the two) is my new club. The second is something of a far grander scale. As we all know, Don Falcone has long left the city. I’m looking to fill the void he’s left behind. I’m looking to unionize and regulate crime in Gotham.”

As Victor listens, he begins unbuttoning his shirt. He also notices Penguin can’t seem to stop staring at his two henchwomen flanking behind his chair.

“Oh. Penguin? Egypt and Saffronia. Xoc just left. Egypt and Saffronia? I believe you know our former mayor.”

They nod in unison.

Penguin smiles with mock humility before addressing them.

“Forgive me, ladies. Not only are your names uncommonly beautiful, but I can’t help but notice they’re from a song by one of my favorite recording artists.”

Zsasz raises his brow, pulls down the corners of his mouth and nods —impressed that Penguin even made the connection. Saffronia looks to Zsasz who nods, encouraging her to continue.

[“‘Four Women’ is one of our mom’s favorite Nina Simone songs.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWWqx_Keo1U)

“Your mother is a woman of impeccable taste. Please, forgive my manners. Allow me to introduce Bridgit and Ivy.”

Zsasz gives them a cheery wave.

Once Victor unbuttons his shirt to the waist, he stands and untucks it from his pants, revealing a quick peek of his firm, pale abs. He turns to face Egypt with his back to his guests and addresses Penguin over a shoulder.

“So, you’re lookin’ at security and enforcement then. Large scale by the sounds of it. You lookin’ to do something like Don Falcone or something different?”

As Zsasz speaks, he lifts both his arms to reach behind his head and grab his collar. He pulls his soiled shirt up and over his shoulders and hands it to Egypt. She exchanges it for the clean one Xoc brought down for him. He quickly slips it on.

Penguin can’t help but be distracted. Zsasz’s wardrobe change is too quick for Oswald to catch a glimpse of his infamous tally marks, but not too fast to miss his flexing lats, traps, deltoids and triceps. He silently wonders.

_Zsasz looks bigger than I remember. Wasn't he was leaner?_

All four women notice Penguin appraising Victor’s body. Zsasz buttons his shirt and looks back at Penguin over a shoulder awaiting a reply. Victor addresses him again when he observes Oswald staring unresponsively.

“Or have you decided yet?”

Penguin distractedly answers, “I’m sorry, Victor. Decided on...?”

Saffronia, Egypt, Bridgit and Ivy all exchange glances.

“What kinda model you lookin’ at?”

Oswald waves off the distraction before answering.

“Of course. I prefer do more research before making any decisions on that front.”

Victor turns back around to face Oswald. As Penguin watches the man tuck in his shirt, he realizes it’s not his imagination. Victor has definitely bulked up. Zsasz addresses him again, snapping Oswald from his thoughts.

“So who’s gonna be crunchin’ your numbers?”

“I’ve not yet selected anyone in that capacity, Victor. I’m still exploring my options.”

Victor sits back down, pours himself a cup of tea and takes a sip.

“I know a guy. A little jumpy, but very professional. You should look into him.”

“Thank you, Victor. I appreciate the recommendation.”

Zsasz asks Egypt to bring a pot of genmaicha. While the green tea didn’t have the same smoky bouquet of that black tea he remembers Oswald used to drink, he suspects he’ll appreciate the lower notes of the roasted brown rice.

Because Penguin has yet to finalize his plans, Zsasz doesn’t make an offer. Instead, he informs Oswald of available security options, their rates and that his security detail is predominately male. He continues to leave riskier and more “sensitive” contracts in the hands of his female staff. Zsasz assures Penguin he’ll make himself exclusively available to him and remain on site to oversee operations if he selects a large scale security detail. Egypt and Saffronia will manage other contracts in his absence.

Penguin plops his hands on his knees and addresses the statuesque women.

“Well that settles it. Ladies, it appears your professional responsibilities will soon be shifting....”

He returns his eyes to Victor.

“Because I won’t settle for anything but the best.”

He raises his teacup to the assassin.

“To a mutually beneficial and lucrative business partnership.”

Victor raises his in return.

“I’ll drink to that.”

Victor leans in a little and smiles.

“ _Boss_.”

Before Oswald and his crew leave, Saffronia provides him with the contact Zsasz suggested.

Once Penguin leaves the premises, Zsasz returns to his basement. He opens the door with a wide grin and playfully addresses the man.

“I’m back! Did you miss me?”

His hostage whimpers in terror. Before getting started, Victor removes his clean shirt and hangs it on a nearby meat hook suspended from the ceiling. The scars riddling Zsasz’s body prompt the man’s terrified wails.

As Victor reaches to pick up another tool, he suddenly remembers something. He strides over to the far wall, pulls down the clock, corrects the time and hangs it back up before returning to the man.

Zsasz wraps an arm around his captive’s shoulder and pulls him in like an old friend.

“Now then, where were we?”

He looks down at the man’s severed digit lying on the chair between his legs. Victor reaches down to pick it up and points it at the man.

“Right. Now I remember.”

-><-

Oswald is skeptical about Zsasz’s recommendation, but can’t deny his curiosity is piqued. After all, what kind of accountant is Victor Zsasz going to recommend anyway? He makes the call the following morning and arranges to meet with the accountant at the location that will soon become the Iceberg Lounge.

A small and reserved spectacled man arrives. He wears a classically cut suit with a bow tie and carries a briefcase. When Penguin introduces himself to Mr. Penn, the man extends his hand, smiles warmly and graciously replies.

“Mr. Cobblepot. Let me first say, it is both an honor and a privilege to make your acquaintance.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been listening to lotsa Jimi Hendrix lately. “[If 6 Was 9](https://https://open.spotify.com/track/0J3CHAStO3pNGTnYnxKZod?si=elnmyP5QQU-YO0AtBj_81A)” is one of my personal faves. It reminds me of ep 3x17, when Ivy helped Oswald recruit Victor and Bridgit --especially when she used the whole “freak” rallying cry.
> 
> I remember watching that ep and thinking it’d be the perfect soundtrack for it way back when it first aired. So, when this song popped up several days ago, I felt inspired to put this story together. If you haven’t heard it, I highly recommend it: 
> 
> “White collared conservative flashing down the street,  
> Pointing their plastic finger at me.  
> They're hoping soon my kind will drop and die,  
> But I'm gonna wave my freak flag high, high…  
>   
> I've got my own life to live  
> I'm the one that's going to have to die  
> When it's time for me to die  
> So let me live my life the way I want to."
> 
> Oh yeah. Nina Simone? She was an extraordinary talent. Listen to her if you haven't. I recently played some Nina for a friend who'd never heard her stuff before. I also remember RLT once posted on IG when he was listening to Nina. I thought it'd be fun to make Pengy a fan of the great woman, 'cause let's face it: she was no mere mortal. (I embedded a link in the story for the curious. I think it's one of her signature pieces.)
> 
> I'm mulling over a few more ideas for these freaks post 3x22 and pre 4x01, but I'm not sure if I've got enough raw material for a full story. If I do write some of my thoughts and add more chapters, the rating on this is probably gonna change because really now: it's gonna be awfully challenging for this Zsaszlepot shipper to resist smutting up any story she writes with Pengy and Zsasz. (That's all I'm sayin'.)
> 
> Oh yeah: I had no beta reader. All mistakes are my own. Holler at me if you see anything requiring my attention.
> 
> Lastly, for those of y'all who made it to the bottom: thank you kindly for the read. Means a lot.


End file.
